Fighting Shadows
by Skewbald
Summary: What was Ethan up to those six months before he went after the Syndicate?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I loved the Ghost Protocol movie, and really liked Rogue Nation, but was sad at the absence of Jane. I also low-key ship her and Ethan, and since there is little to no fanfic surrounding the two of them, I thought I'd give it a shot. This story takes place from the time when Ethan was shot to roughly the end of his six month absence before he went after the Syndicate. All reviews are greatly appreciated, and will help me decide if I should continue this story!

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 **Pain** coursed through his abdomen as his heart drummed harshly against his chest. He was now completely out of pain relievers, his gunshot wound had become grossly infected, and he didn't dare step foot outside the small house in his current condition. He groaned as he repositioned himself at the desk, the screen of his laptop going blurry for a brief moment as pain shot through him. Ethan wasn't sure how much longer he could take this, and he knew the infection wouldn't go anywhere without the help of antibiotics.

Three days ago he'd been shot and told, while standing in an old telephone booth, that the IMF had been shut down and he was to be brought in before the day was over. Shortly after hearing the world crumble around his feet, he considered his safest options. Contacting anyone from his team was out of the question; the IMF would be absorbed into the CIA and everyone would be under close surveillance. So, he drug his bloodied, bare feet down the empty road and used his skill set and limited resources to make it to a safe house he himself had set up some ten years ago in Lech, Austria. He had been able to staunch the bleeding of the gunshot wound long enough to make the two hour drive, and was even able to use some tweezers and a standard stitch kit in the first aid box to extract the bullet and sew himself up. Sure, he wasn't in the best condition to be doing so, and that's probably why the damn thing got infected. He needed medical attention, but he couldn't risk going outside and being brought in by the CIA, not when the Syndicate was still out there somewhere.

A knock at the front door jarred him from his pain induced haze and he staggered to his feet, grabbing the glock 9mm that rested beside him. He took short steps to the door, gun at the ready.

"I'm looking for a Mr. York, regarding the where-abouts of his lost dog," came a very familiar voice from the other side of the door. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, _Jane!_

"What dog?" he asked, finishing the code.

"Montana," she answered back. Montana was the code name for 'all clear'.

Ethan smiled and opened the door, relief evident on his features as a worried Jane stepped inside, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and gun bag over the other. He shut the door behind her as she set her bags down.

She turned to him and looked him over, her features turning grim as she spotted the infected gunshot wound adorning his bare torso. "Ethan Hunt, before I answer any questions, I'm going to have to have a look at that."

When Jane stated she was going to do something, you didn't fight her. Ethan nodded his head and shuffled to the small sofa, sitting down and peeling the soiled bandages from the wound. The area around the wound was swollen and red, and blood trickled out of the poorly sewn stitches as the bandages were torn off. Jane moved to kneel before him, latex gloves already on and medical supplies dumped from her duffel onto the coffee table. She examined the wound with the softest touch, but even that sent shots of pain racing through Ethan.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you Jane, but how'd you find me?" he asked as she grabbed for the scissors.

"I got a tip from Brandt," she said, giving him a small smile before cutting away at the stitches. "I was deep cover. He said he'd pass it on that he was unable to reach me, but he mentioned that they were searching for you and you may be in need of help. So, six hours later and here I am. Sped all the way from Lyon, France; made it past the Swiss boarder without a problem."

"Brandt's stuck on the inside?"

"I'd assume so. Sounds like he's still working right beside Hunley. Benji?"

"Haven't heard. I haven't talked to anyone in ages."

Jane removed the stitches and worked on properly cleaning the wound in silence, Ethan holding his breath. She plucked the tweezers off the table, her steady hands pulling pieces of debris that he had missed from the red, aching flesh. She cleaned it thoroughly once more, glancing up at Ethan to see he had his eyes closed and his jaw set tight.

"Almost done," she murmured, grabbing for the sewing kit to stitch it back up. Ethan could feel each stitch, the pain throbbing.

Jane finished the final stitch and quickly removed her gloves, handing him a small bottle. "Take three of these, they'll help the infection. I'll have to go into town early tomorrow and see if I can find something a little stronger. The infection's pretty nasty, but we'll get it cleaned up in no time."

Ethan grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Thanks Jane. I don't know what I would've done if you didn't show up."

"No problem. Now lay down and rest, I'll get you some water." She smiled at him and turned towards the small galley kitchen. She filled a glass with tap water, turning back to the living room and handing it to him. He took the three pills and instantly his eyes drifted close as he settled into the couch.

"Bedroom is the last door on the left down the hall, make yourself at home," he murmured.

Jane grabbed her bags and made her way to the bedroom. The room was small and bare, with nothing but a king size bed and a dresser; typical Ethan Hunt interior décor. She set her bags by the side of the bed that looked like it hadn't been slept in (the other side had small dots of dry blood here and there on the rumpled sheets), and grabbed Ethan's two pillows. Keeping him elevated would help the swelling to go down.

When she returned to the living room a few minutes later, Ethan was already fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Means the world to me! This next chapter hopefully conveys Jane and Ethan's first plan to finding the Syndicate, and hopefully answers a few questions from the first chapter. Enjoy!

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 **Ethan** awoke from his deep sleep when a blinding ray of sun cut across his face. He grumbled and sat up, opening his eyes to the living room of the small house.

 _How did I end up on the couch? Oh, right, Jane._ He looked around the room, but she was nowhere in sight. There was a glass of water and a small paper bag on the coffee table next to him, with a note. " _New meds- take 2, drink lots of water. –J"_

Ethan tossed the note aside and reached inside the bag, pulling out the small pill bottle. Jane must've run into town already; had he been asleep that long? He looked to the blinds that were still pulled shut, where sunlight was definitely dancing through the small gaps, making light patterns across the room. Ethan guessed it was sometime after 10am. Lord, he hadn't slept at all since coming to the safe house. Realizing he had had such a good sleep, he remembered his wound and the lack of pain he felt. He examined around the clean bandages: the skin was still red and a little puffy, and there was still a dull, throbbing pain but it was much more manageable than the night before.

The sound of the backdoor opening made him turn around. Jane walked through the threshold, carrying what looked to be a radio.

"Hey, you're awake! How'd you sleep?" she asked, coming to sit in the armchair across from him.

"Best I've slept in days. I take it those pills were to thank?"

"Yep. The new ones will help more with the infection. How's it feeling?"

"Feels fine. Bandages are still good."

"Perfect. I pulled my Porsche into the garage if that's fine."

"Yeah. You got a Porsche for your op?"

"Pulled a few strings, got a Carrera 911 GT," she replied with a smirk, setting the radio on the coffee table.

"Why the radio? Is it from the shed outback?"

"Figured I'd do a perimeter check, but yes, I found it in the shed. It's a little too quiet in the workout room for me."

Ethan just nodded and leaned back into the couch. Sure, the pain was manageable, but it had taken a toll on his body. It would take a while for him to recover, and he hated that thought. Not be able to do anything useful for weeks or even months until he was his normal self again.

"So, who else knows about this safe house? Perimeter check was good, I think we're still clear."

"Just the team. It's one of the seven I have hidden around the world, I don't tell anyone about them just in case something like this were to happen." Ethan replied, his hands coming to run down his face.

"Brandt got me your coordinates when you activated the internet. It's a good thing he knew to check this location, good thing he knew about it."

"To be honest, I wasn't going to share the location of this house until that time Benji got shot in the arm during that mission in Liechtenstein last year and we needed an emergency meeting point."

"But Brandt instead got us that dodgy motel, and Benji got loopy on pain meds," Jane said with a grin. Ethan dropped his hands to his lap and smiled at that. God, the four of them made a good team.

"What happened to us?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye.

"Guess we got so good, we were needed elsewhere," she said with a sad smile. Sure, the four of them worked ops together every now and then, but during the past seven months, they hadn't seen much of each other. Jane got called away to her heavy cover mission, Brandt got promoted to work right beside Hunley, Benji bounced from team to team working tech, and Ethan found himself working with more and more new agents.

"The Syndicate- you think you're close?" Jane asked after a moment, apprehension on her face.

"Yes. I know I can catch him, I just don't know where to start," Ethan muttered, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. He bit back the small burst of pain that shot through him.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Ethan just starring at the floor while Jane watched him closely.

"I think we need to start by finding out which other agents are actually still alive," Jane said, rising from the armchair and moving to the small desk in the corner of the room. "I'm going to cross reference the agents who've died with whatever street cameras I can get my hands on without triggering any alarms." She sat down and flipped her laptop open before shooting Ethan a glance. "I made you breakfast, but you'll probably have to warm it up now, sleeping beauty."

Ethan scoffed. "What, you aren't going to warm it up for me then cut the pancakes into tiny pieces?" he said with a smirk. She just gave him one of her signature 'I can kill you 12 different ways with a knitting needle' looks before turning back to her laptop. Ethan smiled and grabbed for the pill bottle, slipping out two pills and swallowing them with some water. He took a deep breath and stiffly stood from the couch, making his way slowly to the kitchen. His legs felt like lead and his head seemed to be swimming through a foggy lake. Never in all his years did he think a single gunshot wound would have this effect on him, after everything he'd ever been though. Ok, driving a car off the side of that parking garage in Dubai was worse than this, but he'd been able to recover in the IMF hospital with all their advanced technology and snooty doctors. Now, he just had Jane. Which was much better than being alone, for he did have considerable blood loss before being able to stitch the wound and it was a wonder he had even been conscious when Jane came to him.

It seemed to take forever to get to the kitchen, but he opened the fridge and pulled out the plate of pancakes, bacon and sausage from the top shelf. His eyes scanned the bottom shelves and drawers; Jane had definitely gone shopping.

"Thanks for stocking up on groceries," he said, placing the plate into the dingy little microwave.

"You needed healthier choices than Spam and canned peaches."

"Cut me some slack, I haven't been here in almost a year, and I haven't stayed here since some four years ago. You already probably knew that though, since you were in the workout room."

"Yeah, there was a good layer of dust on everything. I'm just glad it hasn't hit snow season here yet."

"I wouldn't want to be here at that time, too many people around for the skiing," he muttered. The microwave beeped and he grabbed his plate, moving to the small dining table beside the desk.

"I was going to suggest we only stay here a few more days. I'm afraid someone will find out who Brandt was helping."

"And where do you suggest we go?" he asked, cutting into his pancakes.

"France. We couldn't go to my original apartment in Paris, too risky. I set up a safe house in Chantilly, it's just thirty minutes outside of Paris, but it's a quiet town. No one knows of it, it was to be for emergencies only. I classify this as one of those emergencies."

"What about your undercover op? Did you just ditch out? You were there for a few months, you had to of been in fairly deep."

"It was coming to a close. I may have to finish some business when we get to France, but I'm no longer totally immersed in it. Which works well for us, as the IMF predicted I wouldn't be finished until later this year, meaning I wouldn't be aware of the call to go in."

"Ok, say we pack up and head to France. How will I get past the boarder? I'm sure Hunley has people posted everywhere. And I take it you don't have one of Benji's favorite mask machines."

"You'd be surprised," she said with an excited smile. "The trunk in the Porsche is pretty roomy, and the mask machine is now just a bulky briefcase."

"Alright, let's get to work then."


End file.
